Colonel Abbeway was killed accidentally in
the Russo-Japanese War, and her mother died a few years ago."
"No German blood, or anything of that sort, then?"
"My dear boy, what an idea!" his mother exclaimed reprovingly.
"On the contrary, the Torskis are one of the most aristocratic
families in Russia, and you know what the Abbeways are. The girl
is excellently bred, and I think her charming in every way.
Whatever made you suggest that she might have German blood in
her?"
"No idea! Anyhow, I am glad she hasn't. Who else?"
"The Bishop," his mother continued, "looking very tired, poor
dear! Doctor George Lennard, from Oxford, two young soldiers from
Norwich, whom Charlie asked us to be civil to--and the great man
himself."
"Tell me about the great man? I don't think I've seen him to
speak to since he became Prime Minister."
"He declares that this is his first holiday this year. He is
looking rather tired, but he has had an hour's shooting since he
arrived, and seemed to enjoy it. Here's your father."
The Earl of Maltenby, who entered a moment later, was depressingly
typical. He was as tall as his youngest son, with whom he shook
hands absently and whom he resembled in no other way. He had the
conventionally aristocratic features, thin lips and steely blue
eyes. He was apparently a little annoyed.
"Anything wrong, dear?" Lady Maltenby asked.
Her husband took up his position on the hearthrug.
"I am annoyed with Stenson," he declared.
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